A Decade in Reflection

While people are digging up photos of them from the beginning of the decade to post next to photos of them ending the decade, I find myself combing through my writing. (Mostly because I didn’t find any “good” pictures of me from 2010, but also I realized some major shit went down in my life at the beginning of the decade:)

2010 was the year I’d fully come out to myself and started to accept who I am. It was also that summer I went to my first pride parade and celebration – by myself – because I wasn’t really out to any of the friends I could go with. I remember it so clearly like it was yesterday, strangely enough. I had lied to my mom about having a “overnight weekend rehearsal so everyone is sleeping over at the rehearsal studio”, and arranged to stay with friends (both of them queer) who lived in the West End then. I didn’t have the vocabulary to describe what I was discovering within myself, and how attracted I was to people who are of the same-sex. I remember feeling free, and I remember feeling like I was myself for the first time.

That summer was also the first time I (half-jokingly) asked someone of the same sex out. She was the director of a show I had stage managed just before the summer, and rumour has it everyone who’s worked with her had a crush on her (I was no exception, evidently). I remember waking up after dancing the night away at Oasis (who remembers when that club existed on top of the Denny’s on Davie?), I was steaming buns for breakfast in her kitchen. She remarked on my ingenious method of steaming the bun, and made small talk. I, feeling courageous and silly, asked her if she’d like to go out with me. Even though she didn’t give me a direct “no”, my crush didn’t last long enough for me to ask her out again at the end of the year, when my studies have finished and she wasn’t a teacher of the school I attended any more.

At the beginning of the decade, I struggled to reconcile my faith and religion with who I was. I couldn’t fathom how I could be a Christian and lesbian at the same time. (Actually, according to an old blog post, I identified as “bi” then). I didn’t know where to go for help. I didn’t know if I’m even allowed to feel what I was feeling, let alone talk to someone about it. The more I thought about it the more trapped I felt. I couldn’t deny who I was and follow my religion blindly, when my church clearly rejects the “types of people” I was becoming.

So more events of note that started my decade:

-I worked at my first real theatre job in 2010, at the newly finished SFU Woodward’s, before any of the students were allowed in.

-I made a short film with three of my really good friends called Straight Forward that I bill as my “coming-out film” (embarrassingly, because I wasn’t good at story-telling with moving pictures yet).

-I was super productive in terms of my writing/ blogging, producing an average of almost 6 blog posts per month in 2010!

-I wrote about having a girl crush for the first time (and then many more posts about my feelings for her in the following months, including one where I wrote “I’m sorry” like 10,000 times)

Here’s a brief summary of my decade by the numbers:

-graduated from SFU with a BFA

-worked on 12 short films, maybe more?

-stage managed 19 shows

-designed lighting for 12 shows

-dated 6 people, slept with 11, and married 1

-travelled to 23 countries (and counting!)

-attended 3 high school best friends’ weddings

-gotten 4 tattoos

2010 launched me into a decade of self-discovery, love, and growing up. I wouldn’t have traded the last 10 years for anything, and I’m excited to step into the new year to see what the next decade will bring.

I Follow Rivers

Have you seen Blue is the Warmest Colour? That lesbian movie that came out last year with a bit of controversy regarding its lengthy and graphic sex scenes? If you haven’t, you should. (Obviously NOT for the graphic sex scenes… though that’s always a bonus!)

What struck me most from the movie is when Adele dances to Lykke Li’s I Follow Rivers (probably the Magician remix version though). I never thought a simple dance scene could convey so much! It was probably the most brilliant use of a scene I have ever realized/ come across so far, mostly because I didn’t realize before how freeing an experience dance is until I’ve starting going out to dance.

See, I love dancing. I’d like to think I’m pretty good at it. I’m not sure why I love it so much… it’s just another way I could express myself, I suppose. So when that scene came up in the movie, I couldn’t help but be bewildered by her freedom of expression and how, through dance, we can see Adele gain a sense of “self”. In that moment she “comes to” and embraces who she is. She finally lets go of everything and accepts the reality she’s in – kind of like the first time I went to pride by myself.

It was the summer of 2010, and I had just started to take my interest in girls seriously. For the first time in my life I started to consider the possibility that I would like to have relationships with women instead of men. I was extremely conflicted, having come from a religious background. I questioned my faith, I questioned my self; and I questioned my belief in my faith. Who I wanted to be and who I should be according to the words of Jesus Christ was doing a number on my brain. I didn’t know how to live both lives because they didn’t fit together.

That August came and I was determined to go to pride. I made up an excuse so I could stay at a friend’s during the whole festivity. It was the single most exhilarating and freeing experience I have ever had in the 26 years I’ve lived. I didn’t want to go home at the end of the day, and I certainly didn’t want the high to end. That was the day I vowed to be free: I wished I could live my life the way I wanted to, without having to hide my desires for women and who I am.

So I did. I, of course, not unlike some closet-dwellers, had to come to terms with certain things (mostly religious and family-related) before I could accept myself, but I’ve never felt better or more confident in myself because of who I am and who I’ve become since Vancouver Pride 2010.

Embrace your freedom, people!

Darkness before the dawn. or maybe just darkness And no dawn…

I thought about what to say the whole afternoon, trying to wrap my head around what was going on. It was just another mundane day at work, but the path to it was much different than usual.

The night before I had gone to an Italian restaurant for dinner and belly dance with mom, aunt, and out-of-town uncle and cousin. My wife was also there – at mom’s invitation. (Yes, I am now married – I really should fill you in on what had happened during my writing absences). Even though Mom is suspicious of my relationship and my orientation, we wanted to take the chance to dine together with family.

Just two weeks prior, when I made a trip back home Mom handed me a book titled “Out of a Far Country: A Gay Son’s Journey to God – A Broken Mother’s Search for Hope” and suggested for me to read it. The author, who is now a minister, came to her church to speak and talk about his journey from gay, drug-dealing, HIV positive Asian guy to ex-con minister. When I received the book I was skeptical, but also surprised at her forwarded-ness. I never thought she’d be the one taking a step to approach this touchy subject. Who knows, maybe after hearing Christopher Yuan speak she really had changed. I kept my positivity throughout my reading, curious to find out if the author is still gay. For me, his journey was interesting (yet nothing short of conventional except the gay factor); and I was only concerned with one thing – the outcome of reaching holiness for a homosexual: will he remain gay? If so, what has really changed other than his spirituality? Or will he be ‘converted’ straight, so to speak? Because, c’mon, let’s face it – you will never be ‘converted’ one way or the other; if you’re gay you’re always gay… Otherwise I call bullshit. And if you’re straight let me check again once you’ve had more than enough to drink (kidding!).

To my surprise, the book ended on a ‘sort-of’ note. He is practicing “holy sexuality” – in other words, abstinence for the sake of God and holy spirituality. In all fairness, he’s probably had more than enough 8-hr bathhouse sessions to last him a lifetime. He clearly states that homosexuality is not a choice, but at the same time we should deny ourselves sexual feelings (be it homosexual or heterosexual). He is now celibate and does not consider himself gay or straight.

Even though according to Yuan’s definitions, I am still sinning (for acting on my homosexual feelings), I felt a little victorious after finishing the book. It gave me hope that my mom would somehow understand me. So I turned on my laptop and pulled up a letter intended for my mother I drafted more than 3 weeks ago. I started writing a new version, in Mandarin. In it I addressed the fact that I am more attracted to the same sex, and no matter how hard I tried to avoid or shake it, the only way to make things better is to feel; to let it be. I believe that love is love; love is beyond gender. I told her that I do not conform to the social binary norms that exist in society today. I asked for her forgiveness and understanding for being so ‘rebellious’ or, in my head, independent; and hoped for better communication and relationship between the two of us.

By the time dinner reservations rolled around, I was still at my place finishing the hand-written letter that I had planned to give to her at the end of the night, when I returned her book. Dinner was accompanied by belly dance performances as entertainment, then followed by an open-floor where people got up and danced. We were aware of my mom’s hawk eyes spying on us as if we’re prey while we boogied with my uncle and other patrons at the restaurant. We experienced the same, hateful, watchful eyes just about a month ago, on a night out, when we were followed by a vehicle under the operation of my mother. We called her out on it, but she denied the whole thing. Last night was no different: she stared and despised.

After parting ways with my family at the entrance of the parking lot and handing my mom the careful, thought-out letter, I waited anxiously for a response. I was expecting everything from angry e-mails to hateful phone calls, but what I got threw me off the tracks.

She had sent in her replies via e-mail, which I didn’t see until the morning. It was short and concise but hurtful and infuriating. She was clear to make the distinction that attraction to the same-sex and reproducing for the next generation is totally different. She told me she was disappointed in me when I decided to leave home for work, when I moved out, or when I was absent in her life. She said that she doesn’t feel inadequate, though she felt she had failed my father. Then she followed up with two questions in two short e-mails: 1) have I ever been involved with anyone (read: have I had sex, or more bluntly, am I still a virgin); and 2) have I ‘corrected’ my relationship with God?

I suppose you could say that her response fell within my expectations. I hate to admit that I actually had high(er) hopes for a better outcome, but to follow up with those two questions really upset me. She had completely missed the points I was addressing! Why does who I’ve been involved with matter? So what if I was a virgin? Would she then accept me? And for what, being ‘pure’? What if I wasn’t? Am I then condemned eternally? Am I filthier than dirt? My relationship with God is obviously non-existent at the moment, and I really don’t think I can have one if I were to act on my homosexual feelings. I thought I made that clear by stating I chose to let myself go, to “cut off the ropes that were holding me back”. Perhaps I used a language too metaphorical to understand.

I held back tears on the skytrain after reading her e-mails. A mix of anger and sadness overwhelmed me. I couldn’t find words to address her questions. I really didn’t know what to say to make her see the ‘light’. I felt that my letter was useless. She still hasn’t accepted me, nor has she grasped what I was trying to say.

The whole day at work was amiss; not to mention my head -and my relationship with my family- is still a mess.

Initial responses

following my last post (which I decided to link to on facebook), there was an explosion of warm wishes and best regards for my well-being and wishes for understanding from my traditional Asian parent. Posting that link on my own profile means that this blog is no longer anonymous, but it also means letting people know how I feel and what I’ve been struggling with.

Looking at it afterwards, it felt like I had publicly attacked my mother – much like what I had done before to one of my instructors on my other, more regular blog a year ago. I didn’t want to antagonized my mom, nor did I want her to sound like the least sympathetic human beings ever. She is, after all, the woman who gave me life – and I am grateful for that. I am grateful for what I have in my life right now; but I wish she didn’t “reign” over me still. To say overbearing may be an understatement. Protective, caring, ok – I give you those, but when you have a midnight curfew AND a drinking ban (read: not even one drop) at age 24, don’t tell me you’d happily oblige.

Most people who showed their support and warm regards don’t know my mom. I’m sure they still gave her the benefit of the doubt when they read what I wrote.  All but two of the responses came from Christian friends, one being fairly liberal and the other defensive. I respected each of their replies, but was definitely cheered to hear the former. LGBT is such a divided issue (I’d say it’s almost a religious issue alone), one that requires lots of understanding and open-mindedness, which is arguably what my mom -or any other conservative Christian- lacks.

With the unanticipated amount of support from my friends, I feel like I had an emotional boost… but like a red bull it only lasts for hours. I’m still at my wits end, trying to figure out how to weave my tangled web of lies. I’ve already come across an obstacle: how do I tell my mom that I’m going to live with my gf for the month that she’s here visiting? How, when I have a hard enough time asking permission for a sleepover, do I tell her ‘Hey mom, I’m going to stay with my gf for 3 weeks. Cool? Cool.’ ?

 

Recent Uprising of Events

Okay, it’s not so much a “turn” of events as a little ripple that could qualify as a potential wave…

The other day mom confronted me at lunch. She asked about my visiting “friend”, then sneakily squeezed in the topic of LGBT and our orientation. She caught me off guard, and I wasn’t prepared at all for the conversation, throughout which my heart felt like it had jumped out of my chest and been served as a dish on the table.

My face probably turned white as she asked if my girlfriend seemed ‘strange’ or ‘weird’ to me (I knew what she meant). I pulled myself together and quickly said, “no”, hoping that she’d drop the sudden accusation. But she kept going: “How about you? Are you…?”

“No!” (I wasn’t ready for the consequences if I had said yes – I panicked!) The conversation went on: she asked if I supported gay rights.

“Of course!” I said. And she frowned. “A lot of my friends are gay!” as if that was my only justification for it… “I work in theatre and film; there’s a lot of queer people in my field,” I tried to explain to her how important making connection are in the industry. She said, “But you should stick to you beliefs. They’re ‘wrong’ and you should stay away from the people that can influence you in a bad way. You should live your life according to the Bible. The Bible says homosexuality is wrong, and you should stay away from that.”

Out of my desperation, I used Obama as an argument: “Obama’s a Christian who supports gay rights!” And you know what her comeback was? “That’s why the world is so messed up right now!”

I didn’t know what to say to her. At this point I thought it was better to keep silent so I can get out of there asap. But I wanted to scream “well if you support Obama, you support him supporting gay rights!!!” (because she IS an Obama supporter).

In the end, there’s no easy way to tell my mom that, 1) I could care less about what the Bible says, let alone live a life that’s pleasing to God, 2) I don’t want to go to church, 3) I like girls , 4) I have a girlfriend; and 5) I am sexually active. I think she’s going to have a heart attack.

All this pressure to suddenly come clean to my mom has just dawned on me with the anticipation of my girlfriend’s month-long visit in 5 days. I feel so hopeless and helpless… at least in less than a week’s time, my babei will be in my arms…

Steps to the Outside

I can’t recall the first time I’ve ever came out to a friend… I don’t think there was one specific instance where I remember being nervous about telling someone my orientation. And I think I know why.

My story of how I came to realize I am not straight is fairly unique in that it didn’t follow a simple question-epiphany-realization formula (not saying everyone’s was like that). It was more like a questioning-counselling-fall for a girl-more confusion kind of roller-coaster. Yeah, there’s actually “love” in the mix; how exciting!

Having been single all my life helped a great deal, too. Because I wasn’t verbally explicit about being infatuated with guys, I was able to conceal my desires towards women. Somehow the fact that I never had a boyfriend solidify the fact that you shouldn’t rule out homosexuality as a possibility as to why I’ve never been in a relationship, or automatically assume that I’m straight.

So since my sexual orientation wasn’t outwardly-expressed, it became more of an internal struggle; a struggle to come to terms with my desires and affection for women, and a struggle to accept this “new” me. Life has been pretty good after rediscovering who I am, and I’ve taken steps to avoid hiding my intentions from those around me (particularly friends)… hopefully these little steps out of the closet will mean that one day I can finally be “free”!

The Notion of Freedom

I had a really great conversation with a really good friend tonight. She is someone who’s had a fair share of life experience and someone who I could go to for advice, comfort, and would know all the right things to say (or at least the things I didn’t want to hear but needed to- most of the time). I love her dearly and her opinion is of considerable value to me.

I’ve also heard that she’s got an incredibly sharp gay-dar. When I didn’t explicitly come out to her in person, I’m sure she already knew which way I bent. For me, things were easy around her. I could be who I am without a care because I know she’s very accepting and open-minded. So as a bizarre way of confirming with myself who I am (that and also I would still question myself my own orientation), I asked her if I am gay. I thought if her gay-dar is that accurate, it might know me better than I know myself. Yeah, silly, right? I know. It turned out to be a great discussion about labels, how I see myself, and who I don’t have to be. I can be who I want to be, and if I don’t want to talk about my orientation, I don’t have to!

But I guess that’s a romanticized idea of freedom of expression. I’m not sure if there is a way of not addressing the topic when I’d like to talk about women in public (written or conversational), share about my dating/ unrequited love woes, or watch lesbian-themed videos on youtube without looking over my shoulders. And that freedom is especially absent at home. You don’t realize how important  freedom is until you don’t have it, and how liberating being free is until you are being suffocated.

Same can be applied to coming out. Freedom is when you’ve come out to your friends, family, and those who are important in your life. I came across a fellow closet blog today (I wish I knew how I can find more closets in the blogging world), and what a coincidence it was to see her URL being “freedom denied”.

[wait, writing up to this point has made me realize how ridiculous it is to have to “come out” to the world! It’s almost like talking to people about your religious beliefs… there are many options and many different practices; what you believe in, what you choose to practice, and how you express your beliefs are all up to you! Then again, growing up in a predominately heterosexual world, being “different” has a whole new meaning.]

Freedom is such a strange entity, such a mystery, and such an overrated feeling. I strongly suggest you check out “The Isle of Flowers” (it’s on youtube with English subs). This short film will slap you in the face with your own pre-conceived notions of freedom!